


moments of gold

by ShowMeAHero



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Big Dick Richie Tozier, Blow Jobs, Bottom Richie Tozier, Dirty Talk, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Marks, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Richie Tozier Cries During Sex, Rimming, Shameless Smut, Smut, Top Eddie Kaspbrak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:55:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22247455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShowMeAHero/pseuds/ShowMeAHero
Summary: Eddie’s running out of things to do.Richie has been gone for three weeks —three weeks,and they’ve only been living together for a little under a year. Three weeks is alotwhen Eddie’s twenty-six years old and constantly lusting after his live-in boyfriend. It’sespeciallya lot because Richie’s on a press tour for his new movie, so Eddie keeps seeing pictures and interviews and video clips and gifs and fucking— all these photos of Richie,miles away,dressed in nice blazers and laughing for people whoaren’t Eddie.It’s infuriating, when Eddie watches another video of Richie on Twitter, playing it over and over just to hear his voice. He’s fucking horny and it’s been just overthree weeks,so sue him, and Richie’s supposed to come home tonight but Eddie’s literally not sure he can wait.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 39
Kudos: 511





	moments of gold

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't expecting to write this today, but here we are! Enjoy this hot mess!
> 
> Title taken from ["It’s All Coming Back to Me Now"](https://genius.com/Celine-dion-its-all-coming-back-to-me-now-lyrics) by Céline Dion.

Eddie’s running out of things to do.

Richie has been gone for three weeks —  _ three weeks,  _ and they’ve only been living together for a little under a year. Three weeks is a  _ lot  _ when Eddie’s twenty-six years old and constantly lusting after his live-in boyfriend. It’s  _ especially  _ a lot because Richie’s on a press tour for his new movie, so Eddie keeps seeing pictures and interviews and video clips and gifs and fucking— all these photos of Richie,  _ miles away,  _ dressed in nice blazers and laughing for people who  _ aren’t Eddie. _

It’s infuriating, when Eddie watches another video of Richie on Twitter, playing it over and over just to hear his voice. He’s fucking horny and it’s been just over  _ three weeks,  _ so sue him, and Richie’s supposed to come home tonight but Eddie’s literally not sure he can wait.

Instead of watching the video  _ again,  _ Eddie sets his phone aside and stalks to their supply closet, dragging out his buckets and mops and cleaning supplies and lining them all up in the hall next to the closet door. Rather than scrolling through photo after photo of Richie looking absurdly hot and put-together, he sets himself to cleaning their house,  _ again.  _ He’s done it a couple of times since Richie’s left, and so there’s really not all that much left to clean, but Eddie fucking does it anyways.

He literally scrubs their entire house from top to bottom, because he feels like he’s going to vibrate out of his skin waiting for Richie to come home. Their central cooling system has been down for about two days, so Eddie has fans all over the house to try and keep the air moving until they can get it repaired on Tuesday, but that’s still three days away. It just means he sweats through cleaning the house, the heat making his blood boil and doing him no fucking favors trying to chill out about the whole Richie thing.

It’s nearly eight o’clock when Eddie hears their front door lock start jiggling. His head snaps up, looking over his shoulder even though he’s on the second floor. He completely abandons his cleaning supplies in the guest bathroom. Nothing else matters anymore; he had told Richie it would be on sight the second he got home, and Richie had assured him he was just as excited to be home as Eddie was to have him. Eddie’s not really so sure about that, because he’s  _ really  _ excited to have him, but he has to take Richie at his word.

Eddie snaps his gloves off and leaves them in the bathroom, too, pushing his hands back through his hair to get it out of his eyes. It stays back a little, slick with sweat and curling around his fingers when he tries to neaten it out, but it’s hopeless with the heat and humidity.

He jogs down the stairs just as Richie shuts the front door behind himself. He’s got his suitcase dragged in beside him, and he’s sweating, too, his hair pulled up in a loose bun, a few curling strands sticking to his temples. When Eddie hits the bottom step, Richie looks up at him, all bright blue eyes and heat-flushed cheeks, better than any of the wet dreams or waking fantasies Eddie’s had about him in the last three weeks.

“What’re you wearing that for?” Richie asks, a little choked. Eddie glances down at himself; he’s just wearing a pair of tight shorts. Truly  _ just  _ that, that’s  _ it—  _ partially because he didn’t want to get any products with bleach on his clothes, partially because it’s so fucking hot in their house, and — mostly — because he was hoping Richie would come home before he changed.

“It’s hot out,” Eddie tells him. He starts moving again, mostly subconscious; he doesn’t tell his body to start moving towards Richie, it just  _ does,  _ because he needs to be touching him fucking  _ yesterday. _

“It’s really—” Richie starts to reply, but then Eddie’s grabbing his face on either side and yanking him down to meet him in a kiss, forcing Richie to bow to his height, not allowing him any give to make up the distance. Richie drops the bag in his hands to the ground at their feet and pulls Eddie in by the hips, huge hands stretching over to span his waist, too. Eddie’s hands scrabble at Richie’s shoulders, clutching him tight so he can roll his hips into Richie’s, clinging tightly as he licks into his mouth.

Richie’s still in a t-shirt and jeans, in spite of the weather, so Eddie pulls back if only so he can tear Richie’s shirt off over his head. Richie ducks down and lets Eddie manhandle him out of his clothes, his shirt getting tossed to the immaculately clean floor before Eddie drops to his knees and pops open the button on his jeans. Richie’s hand slams into the wall, sliding to the frame of the front door to hold himself up as Eddie slides his zipper down and grabs his jeans at the hips, sliding them down with his boxer-briefs, together, inch by inch, biting into the inside of Richie’s thigh as he reveals the skin to the humid air.

“Fucking shit, Eds,” Richie chokes out. Eddie tugs his jeans down the rest of the way and has to stop to untie Richie’s boots, yanking them off and tossing them aside before he can get Richie’s jeans off, too. His socks and boxer-briefs come last, but then he’s standing with his head tipped against the inside of their front door, entirely naked, chest flushed and heaving, looking at Eddie with something between shock and arousal. Possibly just a combination of the two.

“I missed you,” Eddie tells him.

“Yeah, fucking obviously,” Richie replies. Eddie bites the inside of his thigh again, and Richie’s fist slams back into the door.  _ “Fuck,  _ I missed you too, you fucking shithead—”

“Good,” Eddie says. He stands up again, guiding Richie’s hands back to his hips. Richie’s cock is already almost completely hard, and Eddie pushes up against him so his dick rubs against the planes of Eddie’s abs. Richie moans loudly, and Eddie takes advantage of his distraction to wrap his arms around Richie’s neck and haul him in for another bruising kiss. Richie just goes, warm and pliant and willing under Eddie’s hands.

“I really did miss you,” Richie murmurs against Eddie’s lips. Eddie pulls back, and Richie repeats himself so Eddie can actually understand him. The words are enough to make him flush on their own, but the  _ way  _ Richie says it, so heated and honest— it makes heat curl up in Eddie’s groin, his cock  _ throbbing _ where it’s trapped in his shorts, already impossibly hard from his fucking  _ weeks  _ of horniness and the tense hours he’s spent today waiting for Richie.

“I want to fuck you,” Eddie tells him. It’s as much a statement as it is a question, and Richie nods as an answer, tipping his head back when Eddie bites into his throat, sucking a mark there hard enough that he can feel the blood rushing to the surface. Eddie pulls back to catch Richie’s face in his hands again, kissing him hard enough that he can feel Richie’s teeth sharp on his lips before he bites at him. Richie moans, so Eddie does it again, biting into Richie’s lower lip and rolling his hips around Richie’s thigh, letting his cock grind against him through his shorts.

Eddie’s the one who pulls back first, stepping back and hauling Richie with him, taking two steps backwards before he has to haul Richie in for another bruising kiss. Richie leans into it, lets Eddie take the lead and drag him into the kiss. He backs up another step without disconnecting, tugging Richie step by step to the stairs before he finally separates them. He takes Richie by the wrist for the staircase, unable to let go of him for longer than a second as he all but yanks Richie to their bedroom and pushes him backwards over their bed.

Richie’s barely bounced once on the mattress before Eddie’s climbing over him, pinning him against the bed and kissing him with teeth, hands roaming down over Richie’s chest to his hips, pinning him in place so he can place himself directly over his thighs. Richie’s huge dick presses into Eddie’s shorts, when he leans over him to bite Richie’s collarbone hard, and Richie moans  _ loud,  _ his hips jerking up. Eddie pins Richie’s hips down and rolls his hips over Richie’s, letting his ass grind over Richie’s cock through his shorts, and Richie inhales sharply, his head falling backwards against the bed.

Richie’s vocal always, but, if Eddie takes him apart right, he’ll run out of words, so he’s got a tentative goal for himself, subject to change depending on how Richie responds. Eddie slips down Richie’s body until his mouth is near his knees, and he bites into his right kneecap, making Richie twitch desperately, a full-body jerk. He licks a hot line up Richie’s thigh, then bites into the inside of it, right above his knee. Richie’s hands slap flat against the mattress before twisting up in the sheets as he fights not to thrust up and knock into Eddie’s face.

Eddie, for his part, bites another inch higher on Richie’s thigh, then switches to the other side, unable to stop himself from sucking a hickey into the sensitive skin there. Richie moans, says,  _ “Eddie,  _ fuck, Eds, come on, Eddie,” and so Eddie brings teeth into it to remind Richie he’s going to go at the pace he wants to go at. Richie whines, his head tipping backwards as he cranes his neck and arches his back. Eddie doesn’t even look at the mark he’s left before he’s licking up his thigh to make another, biting into muscle and flesh and dragging blood up to the surface as he sucks on his skin.

“Fucking shit, Eddie, mother— oh,  _ motherfucker,”  _ Richie breathes, thin and gasping as Eddie switches to his right leg again, dragging his teeth in a hard scrape up the inside of his thigh. He hears Richie’s nails drag against their sheets as his grip tightens, his hips twitching minutely as he struggles to keep them down.

“I missed you,” Eddie says, hot breath fanning across Richie’s slick, overheated skin. Their bedroom is sticky with heat and humidity, sweat rolling down Eddie’s back and along his temples as he mouths at the juncture of Richie’s thigh and his groin, licking the salt of his skin along the crease of flesh. Richie’s hand finds Eddie’s hair, but Eddie reaches up and takes him by the wrist, slamming his hand back down into the mattress as he leans up.

“Eds,” Richie says, choked. His irises are nearly gone, blown black with only a thin ring of bright blue around them, so Eddie drags Richie’s hands up above his head and pins them there, one hand holding his wrists while the other grips Richie by his soft waist, rolling his hips into his cock again, then again, Richie moaning loudly on the second one. Eddie sits up, shifting so he can pull his shorts down and then off, tossing them aside on the floor.

“Get the lube,” Eddie orders him, and Richie goes, scrambling up and out from under Eddie to dig through their nightstand and grab Eddie’s favorite lube. Eddie rewards him for it, separating Richie’s lips with his tongue so he can lick behind his teeth, pulling the lube out of Richie’s hand without opening his eyes or breaking the kiss. He snaps open the lube blind, spreading it across his fingers as Richie whines around his kiss, wanton and turned-on as hell.

Eddie pulls back, tossing the lube aside on their bed so he can sit back between Richie’s legs instead of on top of him. He settles there before he wraps the fingers of his dry hand around Richie’s ankle, pushing his leg up until Richie gets the hint, bending at the knee so Eddie can get a good angle on his ass. Eddie frowns slightly, looking Richie over.

“I took a shower before I left my hotel room in case you—” Richie starts to say, but then Eddie’s using his dry hand to flip Richie over roughly, actually using most of his strength to shove him over one-handed. Richie goes, turning onto his elbows and knees, his head between his forearms. Eddie’s not sure if Richie’s a fucking mind-reader or what, but he always seems to know exactly what Eddie wants when they’re fucking.

Eddie’s right hand is still covered in lube, so he uses his left hand to gently spread Richie’s flesh apart so he can see his hole. Richie shivers as Eddie leans in, his warm breath slightly cooler than the hot ring of muscle there. Eddie slips his right hand up, pushes his thumb in slightly into Richie’s hole, and Richie gasps sharply, a deep inhale that fills his chest before he remembers to relax into it. He shifts slightly, spreading his legs a little bit wider as Eddie noses along the small of his back.

His skin is slick with sweat and flush with blood and heat, and Eddie can’t help but bite into the thick flesh of his ass, hard enough that Richie’s hips jerk and he moans, sounding almost pained. In the next moment, though, he gasps, “It’s okay, that was good, I liked that—” before Eddie does it again, and Richie’s head falls back down, forehead digging into the mattress. Eddie wants to fucking show Richie just how much he missed him, just how desperately he needs him home.

He presses the flat of his tongue to Richie’s hole, and Richie full-body shivers, pushing back slightly. Eddie puts his hand firmly on Richie’s hip, holding him in place as he starts to fuck into him with his tongue. The sounds Richie makes are wild, tearing out of his chest, Eddie’s name and loud, whining groans and gasping obscenities. It strikes Eddie that he’s missed Richie for three weeks, but Richie’s missed him, too, and he wasn’t at home to jerk off whenever he wanted like Eddie had been. The thought of it makes Eddie want to completely dismantle him, and so he pulls back to bite at Richie’s ass again, holding him tightly in place as he alternates between tongue-fucking Richie’s ass and biting into his hot flesh, down over the backs of his thighs and around to his hips and his waist, until Richie’s dripping sweat and all but sobbing under him, finally giving up on words and just whimpering as Eddie pulls back for the last time, nipping along the curve of his ass with sharp teeth before he leans up and puts a hand on Richie’s shoulder.

“Turn over,” Eddie tells him, and Richie slumps into his hand. Eddie helps him move, settling him on his back again and pushing his leg up like he’d done before. This time, Richie only groans so loudly Eddie can feel it vibrate through where his hand is pressed to Richie’s waist. He settles between his legs and tugs Richie firmly against him as he pushes one finger in to the slick, relaxed heat of Richie’s hole.

Richie’s eyes slip shut, his glasses fogging up when he turns his face to press into their sheets. Eating Richie out has made him loose enough that he can take a second finger more quickly than usual, so Eddie gives it to him, slipping his index and middle fingers in to the third joints and crooking his fingers, twisting until he finds Richie’s prostate. Richie keens, his back arching as his head slams back against their mattress, Eddie holding his knee with one hand while he fucks his fingers into Richie’s prostate with the other. Richie tightens around him, and it’s all the warning Eddie thinks he’s gonna get, so he yanks his hand out without warning, making Richie whine loudly, gasping for air.

“Eddie, fucking  _ shit,  _ I’m so close,” Richie tells him, desperate. Eddie leans over him and bites hard into his throat, then drags up to Richie’s mouth, kissing him hard, tasting salt from tears and sweat smeared across his face.

“But I’m not done with you,” Eddie reminds him, sounding a little choked himself, even to his own ears. He strokes his own cock just once with his lube-slick hand, smearing sweat and pre-cum over the hot flesh along with the lube. He pushes Richie’s other leg up, then positions himself between his knees. Richie just looks up at him, face flushed and slick with sweat, curls sticking along his temples, chest heaving and blotched red. His glasses are still foggy and sweat-smeared, his fingers clutching desperately into the sheets as he watches Eddie, tense like a bow, waiting for him to do  _ something. _

Eddie drags Richie’s hips to meet him and finds his hole, spreading his flesh and lining the head of his cock up there with his lube-slick fingers. Richie whimpers when Eddie pushes the head in, his back arching slightly as he struggles not to shove himself down onto Eddie’s cock in one swift movement. Eddie decides to do it for him, grasping Richie by the hips and pushing in, hard and fast, pounding deep into him and making Richie’s breath shoot out of his lungs as he jerks, cursing incoherently as his eyes slam shut and tears leak out the corners again.

Drawing up and over him, pulling Richie’s legs as he goes so he can get the best angle, Eddie positions Richie under him, nearly folded in half, all long limbs and soft flesh as Eddie draws out and fucks back in again, harder now that he knows Richie can take it, and Richie cries out, head tipping back and exposing the pale line of his neck.

Eddie takes the opportunity the moment it arrives, dropping his head and biting into Richie’s throat, sucking a hickey there like a horny teenager as he holds Richie by the shoulder with his left hand and his hip with his right, fucking hard into him while Richie just tries to hang onto him. He shifts his angle once, then again, Richie whimpering each time he does, The third time, he adjusts himself, then shoves in in one hard push, and Richie  _ keens,  _ incapable of stopping himself from pushing into Eddie as Eddie hits his prostate.

Richie writhes under him, trying to push himself onto Eddie’s cock while simultaneously trying to grab onto Eddie’s shoulders and cling to him. Eddie takes pity on him, ducks himself down and grips Richie’s face tight between his hands, a bruising hold as he kisses him, fucking his tongue into Richie’s mouth as he keeps up his pace thrusting into his prostate.

Richie starts to gasp again, barely able to catch his breath as he edges closer and closer to orgasm, and so Eddie lifts his head and lets go of his face. Richie grabs at him, but Eddie’s hand snaps out and catches his wrist, pinning it back against the mattress. A whimpered mess of words that might’ve been Eddie’s name, if Richie was more coherent, spills out of his mouth. Eddie’s cock throbs inside of him, pulsing as he takes in the slick mess of Richie underneath him, out of words and sounds, sobbing in the heat that Eddie’s wrapping him in.

With both hands slick now with lube and sweat, Eddie grabs Richie by the hips, keeping him bent in half as he fucks into him hard, his grip bruisingly tight. Richie scrambles at him, a nail catching and making Eddie spit a curse. He digs his nails into Richie in retaliation, scratching hard up his back, then down, where he’s pressed into the mattress, nails sliding across his slick skin. Richie sobs again, and Eddie’s hands go back to his hips, pressing Richie in half so hard that Richie’s cock is trapped between them.

As Eddie fucks into Richie, the force of his thrusts shoves Richie’s cock into their heated flesh, letting him fuck into their skin where they’re pressed together until Richie’s struggling to catch his breath again, head dropping back enough that Eddie bites his earlobe, the thin skin behind his ear, the knob of his jaw, all salt and sweat under his tongue as he makes his way to his throat and finds an unmarked spot he can bite into.

He finds Richie’s prostate again on the next thrust in, then the next, then the next, Richie still folded in half as Eddie bites into the column of his neck and digs his fingers into Richie’s thighs. Richie doesn’t need a hand on his cock, apparently, because on the next thrust, he cums between them, gasping and sobbing through it as Eddie doesn’t break pace. Both of their stomachs and chests get painted in a fuckload of cum as Eddie fucks himself to orgasm inside Richie, chasing his own orgasm as Richie tightens around him with his.

Richie’s eyes are still closed, tears streaming from them as he reaches up blindly and says,  _ “Eddie,”  _ and Eddie takes his hand, pressing it into his cheek. He turns his face and kisses Richie’s palm as he feels the heat explode deep inside of him, and he shoves forward to fill Richie completely, spilling there with his mouth pressed hard into Richie’s palm, teeth and tongue there as he muffles Richie’s name in his hand. Richie threads the hand through Eddie’s hair, spreading sweat and spit through the slick curls there.

Eddie’s hips twitch of their own volition, Richie’s tight walls milking the last of him as Eddie collapses over him, his sweaty forehead pressed into Richie’s heaving chest. As they both calm down, Eddie moves to pull out, but Richie stops him, grabbing him by the shoulder.

“Can we— Uhh,” Richie starts, then stops. “Can— It’s kind of gross.”

“Richie, I just ate your ass, like, twenty minutes ago,” Eddie reminds him, voice rough and rasping from said activity. He clears his throat and lifts his head properly to look at Richie, his face still flushed and slick with sweat and tears. “You can ask me anything.”

Richie still blushes when he asks, but he  _ does  _ ask, “Can we just sleep like this? Like—” He motions down between them, where they’re joined, Eddie still fully sheathed inside Richie as he finally starts to soften. “Only if you’re okay with it.”

Part of Eddie’s mind explodes, thinking  _ sweat and cum and germs and we need to shower and I need to get clean,  _ but the majority of his brain explodes in the best way possible, thinking  _ holy fuck he wants me to stay inside him he wants to sleep with me inside him I love him so fucking much. _

“For a little while,” Eddie finally decides to allow. “But then I’m gonna wash you myself.”

“Deal,” Richie says, reaching out and hauling Eddie in. Eddie goes, wrapping himself around Richie, keeping him plugged up with his own cock as Richie yawns into his throat and falls asleep. Eddie’s exhausted enough to follow him after only a few minutes, cast in the darkness, the moon bathing them in low blue light.

When Eddie blinks, the room is lightening to orange, and it quickly becomes clear they’ve been asleep for longer than  _ a little while,  _ since it’s obviously morning and Eddie’s still wrapped around Richie, his cock half-hard now but still fully inside Richie.

Eddie lifts his head to survey the situation and figure out what time it is, but he doesn’t even get to look at the clock before he’s caught by a bruise on Richie’s face. It’s not dark, but it’s a blue shadow along the left side of his face, brushing his cheekbone. Eddie reaches up, gently tipping Richie’s face to the side with a light touch on his chin, and there’s a similar bruise on the other side, slightly more defined in the shapes of Eddie’s fingerprints.

A sour feeling curls in the pit of Eddie’s stomach as he props himself up on one elbow, careful not to pull out of Richie and wake him up as he looks him over more closely. Richie’s lips are bruised and swollen; his bottom lip has a bite mark in it from Eddie’s teeth, and Eddie’s heart sinks as he sees bite marks along Richie’s throat, too, broken skin alongside bruises and hickeys trickling down across his shoulders. It’s just as hot as it is terrifying, the idea that  _ he’s  _ the one who marked Richie up like that turning him on as the fear that he went too far and hurt Richie makes his blood run cold.

There’s bruises on his shoulders, and bite marks, and they spread down his chest and across his belly. His waist has two bruises, but he’s distracted by the bruises on his hips, dark imprints in the shapes of Eddie’s hands, branded into his skin. There are lines on his sides, and Eddie can see the deep scratches there and over his back where he’s curled over into Eddie. It makes his heart pound as it finally becomes impossible for him to stay still anymore. He braces himself and slips out of Richie, making Richie blink sleepily awake, his glasses nearly sideways on his face, his sweaty hair a mess all over his head as he yawns.

Eddie sits back on his heels at the foot of the bed, as far from Richie as he can get as he catalogues the bites and bruises on his thighs and his ass. He looks like he was brutalized, and guilt makes Eddie’s stomach churn as he buries his face in his hands.

“Wha?” Richie manages to ask, voice raspy with sleep. He clears his throat, then sits up on his elbows and asks, “What’s wrong?”

Eddie’s brow furrows slightly, his face twisting as he motions aggressively at Richie’s body. “I fucking— I hurt you. Richie, I’m so sorry, I swear I didn’t mean to— But I did, I shouldn’t’ve— Richie, I’m  _ sorry—” _

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Richie asks. Eddie glances back at him to see confusion on his face as he sits up properly, wincing a little and shifting. He shoves his glasses into their proper place on his nose and looks himself over. “Oh. Eds, this is—”

“Do  _ not  _ say this is nothing,” Eddie snaps, then drags his hands over his face again and groans. “Fuck, I’m  _ sorry,  _ I didn’t mean—”

“Listen to me,” Richie pleads, and Eddie drops his hands to look at him properly. He’s all flushed, and they’re both sweaty with heat and half-hard from just having woken up. Eddie’s mad at himself for thinking Richie looks hot like this, because he didn’t ask before he did this, he just— hurt him, and maybe Richie wasn’t crying because he was overwhelmed like he usually is, maybe he was crying because he was in pain, and Eddie didn’t even stop to ask him about that, either—

“I didn’t mean to,” Eddie manages to say, from all that. “I didn’t even ask what you wanted or if this was okay, I just did it—”

“It  _ is  _ okay,” Richie insists. Eddie frowns at him, arms wrapped around his bent legs as Richie shifts forward and crawls closer to him, stopping about a foot away to sit back on his haunches and look Eddie over. He holds one hand out, palm-up, and waits. After a long minute, Eddie finally reaches out and settles his hand in Richie’s; Richie tangles their fingers together, then leans forward to kiss the back of Eddie’s hand.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says again.

“I’m not,” Richie says.  _ “I’m  _ sorry I didn’t make it clearer that this is  _ very  _ okay, Eds, I’m not even a little bit upset.”

“I didn’t even ask,” Eddie tells him, “I just did it and I should’ve asked you first.”

“I get it,” Richie says. “I know. I mean, I don’t mind, because I fucking love it and you can do whatever you want to me, but I know you and I get why this is upsetting you. I just want you to know that it’s not upsetting  _ me.” _

Eddie’s hands are shaking a little, but Richie’s never been anything but honest to him in the time they’ve been together. He studies his face, looking for any indication that Richie might be lying, but he doesn’t find any. Richie kisses the back of his hand again, then slips their fingers apart, catching Eddie’s wrist so he can kiss his palm instead.

“I fucked up,” Eddie says.

“You didn’t.”

“You  _ cried.” _

“Yeah, because I’m fucking in love with you and you make me feel amazing,” Richie insists. “Eddie, that was one of the— And I’m telling you, I’m not saying this lightly— that was one of the  _ best  _ fucking days of my life. I think you fucking me last night is honestly, like, top five experiences of my  _ life,  _ Spaghetti Man.”

Eddie huffs a laugh, but he can’t stop himself from asking, “Really?”

“Fucking  _ yes,”  _ Richie says urgently. Eddie smiles a little wider as Richie continues, “Are you  _ kidding  _ me? Eds, I’ve never come that hard in my  _ life.  _ You’re so fucking hot and you couldn’t get your hands off me, that’s— I love you. So  _ much,  _ and you’re so hot, and I  _ want  _ you to mark me up.”

Eddie looks him over again, letting himself start to lean into the savage mess of Richie’s skin turning him on instead of terrifying him. Richie’s nearly completely hard where he’s kneeling in the middle of their bed just from telling Eddie how he feels, and Eddie can’t help but close the distance between them and cup Richie’s face between his hands, kissing his bruised mouth softly. Even though he tries to stay gentle, Richie still inhales sharply when the tip of Eddie’s tongue brushes over the bite mark on his lower lip.

They’re both still a mess from the night before, sticky with cum and sweat, and Eddie needs to brush his teeth fucking  _ now,  _ so he drags Richie to their master bathroom and manhandles him into the shower. Richie’s just a boneless mess, grinning stupidly at Eddie as he’s shoved under the spray, hot water plastering his hair to his head and his face as Eddie pulls his glasses off. He rinses the sweat off them under the water before setting them outside the shower on the counter beside the sink and stepping under the spray with him.

He washes Richie gently, using a soft washcloth to scrub him clean inch by inch, washing him of sweat and cum and spit until he’s flushed pink and clean. The bruises stand out in the water, the lines of bite marks and scratches prominent on his red skin, so Eddie scrubs himself clean before he lets himself get his hands on Richie. He has to force himself to be patient so he can pull Richie out of the shower, patting him dry himself before rubbing the water out of his hair with the towel. In the humid, warm air of their bathroom, Eddie puts antibiotic cream on Richie’s bite marks and scratches, smoothing bandaids over a couple particularly deep spots. Richie watches him with his dark blue eyes, unfocused without his glasses as he lazily follows the movements of Eddie’s hands.

It’s not until Eddie has Richie completely clean and bandaged up that he pulls him back out to their room and sits him back against the mattress, straddling his thighs as he jerks Richie off without breaking a kiss, making out with him like a horny teenager. He moans into his mouth, and Richie smiles.

“You’re such a whore,” Richie tells him. Eddie twists his wrist, and Richie whimpers, hips jerking up into Eddie’s ass. Eddie slips his hand down, squeezing around the base of Richie’s huge cock so he won’t cum just yet.

“No fucking shit,” Eddie replies, diving in to kiss him again, lightly nipping at the bite mark on his bottom lip before licking into his mouth again. Richie cums quietly this time, his face tucked into Eddie’s throat as he comes apart under his hands. Eddie kisses his wet hair as he strokes him through it.

When Richie catches his breath, he knocks Eddie backwards on their bed, making Eddie laugh until he’s swallowing Eddie’s cock, and then neither of them’s doing much laughing. It doesn’t take long for Eddie, either, not with Richie’s bitten-up throat working around his cock. He holds tightly to Richie’s head, fingers knotted in his hair as he cums down his throat, Richie swallowing him down until Eddie has to push him back, oversensitive and near tears himself.

The cooling system still isn’t working, so they’re both still flushed with heat where they’re sprawled in bed as Eddie digs through their bedside table for wet wipes to clean Richie’s cum off of their chests. Richie doesn’t let Eddie go, when he tosses the wet wipes in the trash can next to the bed, dragging him back in so he can pull Eddie across his back. Eddie takes the incredibly obvious hint to spoon him, wrapping himself around Richie and burying his face in the back of his neck.

“It’s Sunday,” Richie says softly. Eddie hums in acknowledgment. “We can just stay here for a while. If you want.”

Eddie does want. He wants very, very much.

“Okay,” he agrees easily. Richie pulls Eddie’s hand up to his mouth, kissing his knuckles, then his palm, tucking his face into his hand. Eddie uses the leverage to pull Richie in closer, pressing a hard kiss to the crown of his head. “I love you. So much, Richie. You know that, right?”

“I know that,” Richie says. “No fucking shit, I know that. You fucked me  _ up,  _ Eddie Spaghetti, it’s hard not to notice your love language is teeth and tongue—”

“Shut up,” Eddie interrupts heatedly, but Richie just laughs, kissing his hand again and pushing back into Eddie, twisting slightly so he can crane his head back and kiss him properly. Eddie leans up over him, cradling Richie’s face in his hand as he slowly opens his mouth up and kisses him unhurriedly, letting Richie smile against his lips and sigh into his mouth before he pulls back, running the pad of his thumb under Richie’s eye, taking the time to just look at him.

“As you wish,” Richie responds, grinning like a dumbass. Eddie thumps him lightly on the arm before kissing him again.

**Author's Note:**

> You can (and should!) come chat with me on Twitter at [@nicolelianesolo](https://twitter.com/nicolelianesolo) and/or on Tumblr at [andillwriteyouatragedy](http://andillwriteyouatragedy.tumblr.com/). I'm currently taking commissions there, as well!


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